Thoughts on a windswept weekend...

Blimey - what a wet and windy weekend it was in London for the Lord Mayor's show (photo's in the Nov 16th blog-post)...

It was a shame about the weather being so bad - Handler felt it was too gusty and dangerous to take the bike, so we had to drive down - M4, bad weather, Friday night - not the best idea perhaps: it took nearly 5 hours to get there, and the dog felt *genuinely* guilty at it's Man having to do so much driving, at the end of a busy shift...! :(

Still - the dog *loved* the parade on Saturday - despite the gales and rain: standing in the rain in it's damp leathers, protected from the worst of the gales by it's Man's strong warm body at it's back - both of us bobbing and foot stomping to the marching bands (and the dog eyeing up all those shining riding boots and stern-faced mounted Huzzars...!); the RAF guys in their branded leathers where kinda sexy too...!

Then heading for a pizza to warm up - Handler giving the dog a playful cuff when He caught it all puppy-eyed and gazing at Him with devotion across the restaurant table (and greedily watching Him down another pint of lemonade...)

Shame that they cancelled the fireworks - but it was fun donning my 'Art Librarian' hat and dragging my Handler around Tate Modern instead... The deep, womb-like Unilever installation by Miroslaw Balka was an interesting experience - especially standing at the end in the velvet dark-room blackness, wrapped in my Handler's warming arms, watching with dark-adapted eyes whilst the plebs shuffled and squeeled and blindly bumped into each other...


And then all those *other* moments - with my Man as His devoted rubber-dog and faithful k9 companion...

Shamelessly singing and howling along to Abba on the car stereo, whilst Handler shook His head in disbelief... Snuggled up warm under the duvet after the parade - not wanting to be a tease, but also somehow unable to fight it's natural desire to wriggle and squirm and grind it's hole back onto it's Man - despite the relentless 'trouble' that always seemed to result... Dozing and waking to find myself still wrapped safe in His sleeping arms, with His meat still burried deep in my pup-hole... Sat astride Him on the bed, rubbered and sweat-slick after the club, muzzle burried and wuffing into His pits as it helplessly humped it's dog-cock into His belly and smeared it's dog-spunk into His pelt... Stopping at the nighttime Service Station, climbing out of the car to quietly kneel in the dark whilst He emptied His lemon-tanged piss into my waiting throat...
'Transforming' in the hatch-back boot of the car on our way to the Hoist on the Saturday night: climbing in as a man at one end, and trotting out as a fully-formed rubber-dog at the other...

WUUFF!! it was amazing to be able to experience arriving at the Hoist as a proper rubberdog like that - i even got to pad along the pavement and into the club on all fours, fully muzzled and collared and tailed so that everyone from doorman to waiting members saw and reacted to me as nothing more than my Handler's pet dog for the whole night... it felt mean to wait whilst He went to park the car, but amazing to see how everyone quietly left me were my Handler had collared me and told me to "STAY!" - each new guy just giving the odd passing pat on my hooded head, or a 'sweet puppy!' comment...

Sir, Your dog is pleased and proud that You had so many compliments: it always feels so good to be so naturally and simply Your obedient dog that Men comment on our 'Man-and-dog bond' like that - it lets me know that i am doing You proud, and being simply myself, Your dog - as i should be...

And as for the greedy, envious (and sometimes disaproving) looks that we got when the dog quietly knelt and took Your piss, and then deep-throated You without comment or complaint - just Your hand gently letting it know how long and how deep it should go... or the guy who was fascinated watching the dog as it spent hours of quietly focused mouthing and licking, keeping it's Master happy and hard - but who was then so incredulous that it could do so and not 'be drugged out of it's brain!' (i ask - what dog needs chemical stimulants when it has it's Man and His scent and taste?!?). Well - those looks and comments were equally as pleasant to the dog, and made it feel Proud to be able to demonstrate it's training and devotion...

So - thank You for another wonderful weekend Sir - for giving us *both* time away from the humdrum and stress of work and our mortgaged-lives... Thank You for proudly displaying Your dog to Your friends - and for letting the dog wear Your collar for all to see.

Thank You, Sir, for telling the dog that You genuinely enjoy it's company - whether as simply a fuck-toy, Your rubber-dog, or faithfully friendly companion. You make me feel better than anything else in my life right now - and for that i am, and always will be:

YOUR dog - bootbrush

Less than human...?

"When i'm pup, i'm released from all the stresses and angst of my human life, and have a simple zen-like focus on my Man and making HIm happy; curiously, i don't experience that as a lessening of myself or a degredation: i don't feel less human, just more pup..."


It's funny - many people see a pup and think that they are being degraded or humiliated by their role. They often see the play in terms of BDSM and humiliation scenes - that the pup is being *made* to act like a dog, or is being treated *as though* it were an animal; that it has been 'de-humanised' and turned into a beast...

But for pups like me, that's not fully the case. Our pup-hood is a voluntary and gleefully embraced identity. i'm not forced to be an animal, since i already know that i *am* an animal (we all are!). Culture, Society, life - they are all good things, but they do sometimes wall us in behind Expectations and Social morays, Deadlines and Analysis - they distance us from our very real and very natural mammalian selves - and it's needs and desires.

Being pup allows me to re-embrace that self - and so i thankfully kneel to accept my Handler's collar anew every time. That collar does not remove me from myself or rob me of my humanity: it allows me to pull inwards from the distractions and busy-ness of my ordinary life, and to embrace a deeper, more focused and emotionally freer state. i let go of distractions, let go of thinking and rationalising - and simply let HIM become my prime focus.

On one level, it *is* very like Zen. No-one would ever think to suggest a monk dehumanises himself through taking the robe; robe or collar - we both remove distractions and focus ourselves on a simpler life led for the glory of another...

Lord Mayor's Show

Brrrhhh!!!

Despite gales and lashing rain, we still managed to make it up for the Lord Mayor's Show. No bike this time (that would have been suicide!) - which meant the most horrendous drive in: how does *anyone* live in London and not abandon 4 wheels for 2?!?!

Still, the parade was fun, despite traffic jams and parking nightmares - and the dog certainly enjoyed all the stirring marching bands (and all those stern-faced mounted Horseguards and their shiney big black boots...!!!)

Back to reality...

A crazy week at work - budget cuts, redundancies, nasty rumours and low staff-morale - exhaustion and depression bleeding all purpose and life from the world to leave it - and me - grey and colourless...


And then, a simple message on Recon from my Handler:

"Just saying good morning to My dog!"

the whole day turns around: i know my Man is thinking of His pup - which in turn wakes the pup inside of me - and i can feel my tail wag and the grin spread on my face like the sun bursting out of the clouds!


Sometimes we really *do* over-complicate our lives, don't we? We let our well-being become blighted by phantoms and fears of what may be (and even fantasies of what we might think we desire...) - we become so overwhelmed by the mess in our heads that we forget the *real* stuff: the steady beat of your heart, the breath in your lungs - the knowledge that you are loved and thought well of by those who *matter*. When you are reminded to live in *that* reality, all the phantoms fade into fluttering shadows...


And so - thank you Sir: for that inconsequential little message - it reminded me of what is important - and *genuinely* made Your dog's day!

A perverse fantasy... [for ForgeLives]

Piggy rubber-pup in the morning - perving to the 'Mr October' of the Invincible rubber calendar - There's just somethin about that long apron, the gloves and waders - the eyes staring cold and possessive over the mask - the head-fuck in the idea of being operated upon, tested, adapted...


Imagining this rubber-clad Master - and myself bound and restrained within His lair: IV in my arm, pumping a coctail of pyshotropics and steroids into my bloodstream - my head encased in a VR helmet that pumps porn and subliminal messages into my seething brain... The drugs and the hypnosis and the perverse desire bluring the edge between reality and fantasy, humanity and porn - makin me trip my face off...

Losing myself to the trip - to the voice and the rubber - drooling into the hood and staring with blank empty eyes as it all pumps deeper and deeper into me, pushes me further and further from any sense of reality or self or humanity - filling my brain with only lust and dependent need.

Feeling the rubber come alive - squirming over my helpless writhing body, seeping through the pores, worming into my mouth and arse and piss-slit - pulsing into every cavity, filling me up... my body throbbing with pain and perverse hunger - eyes covered, glossed over, blank and empty - mouth stretched in a scream, as the rubber-tide rises up and over my lips, down my throat. My whole face becoming an unrecognisable blob of rubber that moves and ripples - layer after layer coating limbs become so heavy and stiff - mounding and molding with rubberised muscle until it looks like some roided muscle-monster - the mind within assaulted on every side - programmed deeper and deeper into pure and empty service for the Man who sits behind the console and controls the whole process - who moves in the shadows, greedily watching my dehumanisation and hybridisation into an object, a mindless rubberslave dependent on Him, obedient to Him - addicted only to the pure bliss of HIS pleasure...

Mutated into a rubber-encased object - a tireless rubber-toy devoted only to the pleasure of the perverted mind that has taken and transformed me - utterly removed from humanity: no identity, no history, no face but the rubber that encases it and transforms it into a dehumanised object for it's Master's pleasure...

The rubber-creature finally released from it's bonds - so utterly changed that it has regressed to a worm-like state: it's face a simple smooth curve of rubber - no visible eyes or nose or features - it's throat a slick rippling tube in the center, ready and eager to be filled and fucked and pissed into. Body pumped and swollen within the rubber - devoid of humanity, warped by the rubber and it's service into that of a worm that lives only to satisfy it's Master's primal urges: a warm, soft, slick, wet hole, nothing more - the perfect rubber fuck-tube for the Master to dump His fluids into - greedily sucking with grunts and squeels and animal sounds - incapable of anything but greedy worship of the master who has abused and warped it's body and mind to His service...

Lost in the fear and perversity of that thought: finally and completely become nothing more than an object - my Master's kinky possession, devoid of any humanity or consiousness. Used for His pleasure, then stored away with His gear - hung up amidst His leather and rubber - connected to pumps and pipes that sustain it's limited rubberised life - mute, blind, senseless - aware of nothing but the vague passing of time before it is taken out again to be pumped and fucked and used once more...

Road-side piss-break...

i am betrayed by every one of my senses: smell, taste, touch - intensity presses in through every nerve fibre to overwhelm every thought, all sense of self...:

• the gleam of His leather and the flash of sunlight on chrome - the sight of the bike through the trees when i kneel waiting for Him to return...
• the *sound* of Him: the creak of His leather one-piece and the sound of the zipper as it pulls down - the crunch of gravel and ivy beneath His boot, and the rustle of leaves in the woods around us - the sound of my own laboured breathing and the squeak as my leather meets His...
• the *scent* of Him: the heady overwhelming mix of leather and musk - burying my muzzle into His chest, nuzzling for His nips - hearing Him grunt, then feeling His gloved hand guide me inside the suit - push my face and tongue into His pits - losing myself as His voice growls 'take a deep breath boy; get your man's scent!'
• the *taste* of Him: salt from His sweat - musk and leather - my face wet, lost in His smell and the pure puppish joy of nuzzling into Him, smelling Him, letting His scent awake the dog inside me...
• the *feel* of my own leather bike gear, tight and protective - beneath it, the even tighter rubber - holding me, containing me - body slick with lube and sweat - my dog-cock encased within the pouch-shorts: aroused, encased, constrained - slick and tight within a pool of my own juices - grinding down through the gear onto His boot...
• tongue wet, mouth hungry - looking up at Him with hungry animal eyes - lost in the leather and Masculinity and Power that flows from Him;
• seeing Him looking down at His dog - hunger and Pride in His eyes to see His dog at His boots - feel it grinding it's cock and balls into His leather in helpless arousal - hear it's moans and wuffs - knows it's begging Him, knows what it wants and needs...
• watching with hunger as He pulls down the zipper - the flash of His red 'Bike' jock - gloved hands reaching in, drawing out His meat - the overwhelming urge to lunge and lick and nuzzle - but being a 'good dog' - waiting.
• His hand pulling on the leash and my collar - telling me to show Him my doggy-tongue...
• panting, tongue dripping, mouth wide and throat open - eyes fixed on His as His gloved hand guides me - holds my head - tells me to be still: 'no playing with it boy - just hold it there in your mouth - wait...'
• feeling Him brace himself - knowing what's going to come - knowing i've already begged Him for this - to teach me how...
• and then: the first hot gush of my Man's piss - filling my mouth, washing down my throat: hot, salt and bitter - desperately gulping, pushing forward - feeling it hitting the back of my throat, wanting to be filled by Him - taking His juices, His piss...
• gulping it down like a good dog - wanting to make Him proud - show Him what a good dog i can be - what a pervert-dog i am for Him...
• a shudder passing through my rubbered, kneeling body at those words in my head: 'pervert - dog' - coursing through me to twitch and fire in my plugged hole.
• His piss coming in pulses - knowing He is trying to control Himself: not wanting to drown His dog, or make it choke - making Him proud: gulping it down like a good piggy-pup - knowing He can feel my throat and tongue pulsing as i do...
• feeling my muzzle and throat become slick and wet, steeped in His juices - feeling Him coming to the end: knowing He's emptied His bladder into His dog - feeling it hot and full in my stomach - taste it bitter and strong in my mouth - feel Him getting hard now - know i can mouth it now, play with it, lick it...
• i push myself down onto Him - feel Him slide down my throat: piss-slick and thick with pre-cum - feel Him shudder and hear Him grunt as His head pushes past my tonsils, down deep into my dog-throat...
• nose against His belly, balls against my chin - feeling Him fill me - gagged with Him: breathless, stopped-up, plugged both ends - but wanting to feel Him even deeper - make Him follow His own piss down deep into my soul...
• my arms wrapped round His legs, hands grasping His thighs - pulling Him into Me - feeling Him clench and flex as He starts to thrust: as He gives Himself over to the pleasure of fucking His dog's throat;
• timing my breathing with the rhythm of His arousal - slipping into pure pup-space: lost in time, to thought - nothing now but this moment, this feeling: given to His pleasure - wanting it to never end: to be His dog, here, forever - nothing more.
• He pulls out - i whimper - but He tells me to lick my spit from His balls - and i give myself over to it with equal fervour.
• He strokes the back of my head, covers my eyes and nose with His gloves - gives me the heady smell of new Damascus leather to compliment the salt of His flesh...
• i lick and nuzzle, breathe and whine, grind and hump - lost in the pleasure of giving *HIM* pleasure - hearing Him croon and growl - feeling Him stroke His meat - knowing how randy it makes Him when His dog grooms His balls with it's tongue...
• and then He stills my head with His hand - again, tells me to hold still: 'show me your tongue boy'
• i rock back onto booted heels - tongue and throat open - face wet with piss and spit - my eyes burn into His as He rests His meat on my tongue - makes me wait a moment - feel it hard and wet and ready - feel Him braced, resisting His own need for a second - teasing his dog, making it wait for the command:
• 'good boy! - now: suck out your Man's cum!'
• My lips clamp around His shaft, and my throat flutters around His head - i curl my tongue back to flick the underside - and feel Him shudder and tense...
• and then His hands grab my head - hips thrust himself deep into my throat - and i feel Him: hot, pulsing, thick and powerful - pumping deep into me, down into His dog - filling it with His cum like He has already filled it with piss - pulsing, grinding, pumping - i can't breath, i see stars and my vision tunnels - but i give it *all* to Him, *for* HIM - for His pleasure, His need - HIS satisfaction.
• It seems like an age - i am lost in the pure pleasure of *HIS* Pleasure - ride the waves of His passion... slowly i feel Him start to calm: His hands release my head - let me take a breath; i hear His own breath shudder inside His chest...
• i feel His hands stroke my head, rub my ears - tell me what a 'good dog!' i am - His meat still wet and hard in my gentle mouth - i wrap my arms around His leg, give a muffled whine and wuff! - trying to express my thanks, my pleasure at having Served Him...
• He lets me lick Him clean - bathe His balls in my spit again - He takes a moment's pleasure in His dog's attention... then tells it to 'leave!' as He re-dresses and pulls up the zipper...
• i slowly become aware again of our surroundings: of the branches and leaves - the sound of the road the other side of the trees - the bike ticking as it's engine cools...
• He grins at me - at His dog on it's knees, piss filled and cum-drenched - reaches down and grabs my collar in His hand - pulls me up onto my hind-legs - drags my mouth to His - wraps His arms around me in a crushing hug and sucks the breath from my lungs in a kiss filled with passion and Pride...
• i grin back with pleasure, can't help but hump and grind into His leather as His hands ride round to grab my leathered butt, and gives the plug there a push - i give an excited 'WUUFF!' at His laugh and his pride-filled: 'pervert dog!'

And then - like the good dog i am - i follow my Master back through the road-side woods to His bike - watch as He pulls on the helmet, and then pats the seat behind Him; obedient, i swing up and settle carefully down (careful of my plug and rubber-shorts - still wet and slick with unshed arousal)... i give a happy bark in answer to His 'Home, pup!' - and another at the feel of His gloved hand reaching round to pat the back of my thigh where it grips His.

There is a distracting taste of piss and cum in mouth - and a *GRIN* on my face - for the whole ride back.

a few new Tattoo pics

Finally had a nice sunny day - with both of us feeling refreshed enough not to look haggard and tired - and so we headed into the garden (and bedroom) to take a few pics of the most recent tattoo work.

(All work on display by Jo Harrison, Modern Body Art, Birmingham UK)